All The Time In The World
by Phoenix Moon 13
Summary: In the weeks before Harry returns, Neville Longbottom falls for his best friend, but neither of them imagine heartbreak is just around the corner. Rated M for sexual references. OC warning.
1. Chapter 1

_**All The Time In The World  
><strong>_**Chapter One**

Author's Note: I've got a thing about making my favourite characters happy (see _A Line In The Sand_) and Neville Longbottom has been my favourite character since _Philosopher's Stone_. What can I say? I've always had a thing for the underdog. I always knew he'd turn out well, but I've got to say I'm disappointed that he never got some lovin'. So here's me reconciling that. OC-ing to my heart's content. So, if you're not into OCs, this really won't be your thing.

* * *

><p>They make it to the Room of Requirement with their bags tucked under their arms. The door billows into being and Neville snatches at Jemima's wrist. She winces as he shoves the door open and drags her inside. They huddle against the wall, too scared to light their wands. They can hear the Carrows' bellowing.<p>

"Where are they? Where'd they go?"

The frisson of fear recedes after a while and when they light their wands the beams fall on a single hammock and several Gryffindor hangings. Lanterns around the wall warm into life. Jemima is standing very close to him, so he puts his arm around her and gives her a squeeze.

"We're safe now, Jem. Told you we'd be all right here."

"Yes," she replies quietly, the beam of her wand trembling. She reaches up, takes his hand from her shoulder and holds it tightly. "Neville, I'm afraid."

The tight little knot of fear in his gut liquefies and he finds himself growing hot with it. Jemima Lupin doesn't really do afraid and if she did, she certainly didn't admit it.

"Luna was taken," Jemima shivers, remembering how she was dragged from the Hogwarts Express at Christmas. Neville had managed to leg-lock one Death Eater before they were all stupefied, slumped in their seats all the way to King's Cross. "And your Gran's on the run. And now they're coming after us."

"Yeah, but we're safe here. And things will look better in the morning. That's what Gran always says."

Jem scrubs at her face with her free hand and manages a smile. Mrs Longbottom had taken her in over the Christmas holidays as her father was still in hiding with her stepmother. She still misses the old lady's fantastic casserole. The letter had come that evening, the Longbottoms' old owl tapping at the window, a scrawled note bound to its leg:

_Have had a visit from Dawlish, I think he may need a few nights in St. Mungo's. They will be after you next, Neville. I am so proud of you, you are your parents son. Keep it up. Take care. Love Gran._

Neville had gawped at the letter, then tucked it into the pocket of his robes before they rushed off to throw some things into bags. They didn't dare wait in the hope of further news.

"Good old Mrs Longbottom," Jem says, with a shaky laugh.

She nibbles her nails and in the half-light from the lanterns, her face looks battered. Her lip cruelly split by Amycus Carrow, a black eye that has since faded to a sickly yellow. She keeps the arms of her jumper pulled down over her hands to cover the rope burns left from her last detention.

The hammock rocks slightly, as though trying to draw attention to itself. They need sleep, but the moment stretches and Neville finds himself leaning down and kissing her gently, chastely, on the lips. Her lips pout to meet his and when he straightens up they stare at each other, mystified.

"We should get some sleep," she eventually whispers.

He nods, a belated blush rushing to his cheeks. A blush that deepens when it finally dawns on them that there is only one hammock. They giggle as they tried to clamber into it and once they are settled the lights dim down into nothing. The hammock bundles them together and in the darkness she moves tentatively closer.

He holds himself very still as she slots herself under his arm, but then he relaxes, his hand curling over her bony hip. He is dozing off when she speaks again.

"Tomorrow we'll figure out how to make this work. And we'll need to get some food. Night, Nev."

* * *

><p>She had helped him find his toad, taking pity on his stricken expression when he piled into her compartment that first day on the train. She had keen golden brown eyes, short pale brown hair and a nail-biting habit that had whittled her nails to stubs and shredded the surrounding skin.<p>

As awkward only children they stuck together. She had only her father, Remus Lupin. Her mother, Griselda Blake, had been killed by Death Eaters when Jemima was only a week old. She had attended numerous Muggle schools because her father moved regularly in search of work and she had no friends outside of Hogwarts. While Neville had no parents, she envied him his eccentric extended family, though she was secretly terrified of his Grandmother.

Neville and Jemima came as a package in the same way that Seamus and Dean did, or Harry, Ron and Hermione, so he was hurt that she never told him the truth about her father. He heard on the rumour mill that Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

Neville had decided that he was quite angry at her lack of trust and was going to say so, he really was. But then he saw her in the doorway of her father's office, arms crossed and scowling. She didn't see him, so he retreated just as her father kissed her on the top of the head, hefted his suitcase and said he'd see her in a few days.

Neville found her later by the lake and despite a lifetime of restrained Englishness had put his arms around her to give her a tentative hug. They had never hugged before and despite their closeness, their fierce vows to always be best friends, it felt strange and awkward. The tears he felt on his neck were red hot and she scrubbed furiously at her face, squinting hard to stop crying.

"He's a good teacher."

"I know."

"And there's nothing wrong with me, you know. St. Mungo's said so."

"How do they know?" He was appalled by the idea that they might have run tests on her.

"My mother died before my first full moon. Dad arranged for friends to look after me for a while, but then... There was no one to look after me. I spent every full moon at St. Mungo's after that till I came here."

He had never felt sorry for her before, so the upsurge of pity then was an alien emotion. He had a better awareness than most of the inside of St. Mungo's. She was, after all, not the only one keeping secrets.

So there, in the glare of early summer sunshine, while her father made his lonely way down to the station, they swapped secrets. She told him of the way her temper rose at the full moon and her love of rare meat and he told her of the collection of sweet wrappers in a shoebox under his bed, all titbits from his mother.

"You didn't tell me," she said, a note of accusation in her voice.

"You didn't tell me!"

She shifted and shrugged, pushing her hair back from her face.

"People don't like werewolves. And people don't like things that aren't normal. Like me."

"I didn't want people to feel sorry for me. And I didn't want anyone to… make fun of my mum and dad. It's not funny."

"No. It's not," she leant closer and bumped her shoulder affectionately against his. "I would never make fun. Thank you for telling me."

He looked up and that was when his crush on his best friend was born. Her golden eyes were red-rimmed, her face blotchy and there was a sparkle of moisture at each nostril. But she didn't laugh; she didn't reel off a list of platitudes. He realised then that he wanted her. He was thirteen-years-old; his body was doing things that embarrassed him – sprouting hair and shooting up so that Malfoy sniggered at the inches of ankle his trousers exposed. And now it seemed that his heart was rebelling against him too, because he knew full well that she was in love with George Weasley – a secret he had sworn never to reveal.

By the time George asked her to the Yule Ball, Neville's crush had reached tragic heart-breaking proportions. She was his best friend, so he couldn't help but be happy for her when she danced into his dorm and told him that George wanted to go to the Ball with her. But he took a spiteful sort of pleasure in the fact that on the night she told him he waltzed much better than George. It didn't quite take the sting out of catching them snogging around every corner, but it helped.


	2. Chapter 2

**_All The Time In The World  
><em>Chapter Two**

When they wake up, the room is as barren as before. They struggle to sit up, but the hammock swings wildly and they are deposited unceremoniously on the floor. Jem's tongue feels furred, her eyes sticky and she would give anything for a hot shower and a toothbrush.

"Look," Neville scrambles to his feet and goes to a door that appears in the opposite wall. He sticks his head in then turns to her with a grin. "It's a bathroom!"

It's not ideal. There are rust stains around the taps and there's a crack in one of the mirrors, but there's a toilet, a small pile of towels and – joy of joys – a shower.

They take turns in the shower and then sit on the floor, sharing a box of Every Flavour Beans. They only have those, three Chocolate Frogs and a corned beef sandwich. The day whiles itself away and they re-read old copies of the _Prophet_, which Jem had hastily stuffed in her bag when she emptied her drawers in the dormitory before they made their escape the night before.

Neither of them mention the kiss.

That night they agree they will have to venture out for food tomorrow. The thought does not thrill them. But the next morning, the passage to the Hog's Head has appeared and they don't have to worry, about food at least.

* * *

><p>Aberforth Dumbledore is not initially impressed by these youngsters. The girl has a rangy, hungry look – pretty if you like your girls skinny and watchful. The boy has the half-stuffed appearance of someone in the process of losing baby fat faster than nature intended. Both of them look like they have been trampled by a herd of centaurs. They are friends of Potter's and clearly want to emulate their hero. Aberforth thinks they are foolish. Better just to make the best of things, he reckons. Albus was one for rocking boats, not him.<p>

"So you'll just bow down to them, is that it?" Neville is halfway through his fried breakfast – Aberforth could hardly refuse a request for food. Neville puts his knife and fork down and stares at Aberforth. "But you're Professor Dumbledore's brother!"

"What's your point?"

"He wouldn't want us to just take it! He didn't believe in all this stuff – keeping Muggles down, preserving the purity of magical blood. He'd want us to get the younger ones away."

"You don't know what he believed, boy."

"I know he believed in Harry Potter."

Aberforth looks at the girl – Jem, she calls herself. She only asked for a bacon sandwich, lots of bacon. She has already devoured it and is now looking mournfully at her empty plate. He can't think where she puts it all if she eats like that on a regular basis. She looks up at him and repeats her statement.

"He _believed_ in Harry. And so do we. Wherever Harry is, he's not on the run, whatever the Death Eaters say. And soon he'll be back."

"And you two will be waiting for him, will you?"

"Yes," the boy now chimes in. "We'll be here, ready to help him if he needs us. We're Dumbledore's Army."

Aberforth almost chuckles at this, but then he remembers his brother. He didn't often visit, but Aberforth does remember Albus mentioning that some of the children had opposed Dolores Umbridge, calling themselves "Dumbledore's Army".

"So you're ready to die in my brother's name, are you?"

Neville nods firmly.

"Yes, I am. And if you won't help, I'll find another way to get people away from the Carrows'. Just do one thing for me. Please?"

"What?"

"Help get Jem away."

"Do what?" Jem looks furious; this is clearly not something they have discussed. "Get _me_ away?"

"It's not safe."

"It hasn't been safe for a long time. It wasn't safe at the Ministry that time either or in the Astronomy tower. I'm going nowhere."

She looks at him in a way that appears significant. Aberforth wonders if the boy can tell what she's thinking, what she's trying to convey in that look. Neville sighs and shakes his head, picking up his knife and fork half-heartedly and poking at the rubbery eggs. Whatever was in that look has cowed him.

"Will you help us?" Jem has a very pointed chin, which she juts at Aberforth defiantly.

"Yes," he finds himself saying. "If I must."

* * *

><p>"Why did you try to get me to leave?"<p>

They had walked to the Hog's Head, hand-in-hand, though Neville isn't sure whether this is because of the kiss or because of the uncertain terrain. Now though, she is stalking along, a pace ahead of him, arms obstinately folded.

"I told you. It's not safe."

She snorts, clambering out of the tunnel at the other end, barely registering what has sprung into existence in their absence (a fresh pile of towels, a radio and two pillows).

"I just want you to be all right."

"I'll be all right if I'm here with you."

Her face burns bright red as she says this. She is not usually a blusher, unlike Neville who blushes all the time, at the slightest provocation.

"I don't want to leave you."

She is having trouble keeping eye contact and her blush is not subsiding. She starts to lower herself to the floor to sit down, but a bench swirls into being beneath her, catching her unawares so that she lands with a jerk. He sits down next to her, sliding close so that their thighs are touching and he can see how her breathing makes her hair lift when she turns to look at him.

"I don't want you leave either. Not really."

"Good. Because I'm staying put. You and me – we're a team. We're all that's left."

They are almost nose-to-nose and this time he is not sure who started it, only that suddenly her lips are on his and then her mouth is open and their tongues are touching. Her arms wind round his waist and he cups her jaw in his hand.

It is not his first kiss. In their fifth year, before George left, Jemima pointed out Hannah Abbot's glances. Driven half mad by seeing Jemima kissing George that morning before breakfast, Neville somehow found the courage to talk to Hannah. Behind greenhouse number three, with the smell of peat strong in the air, mingling queasily with Hannah's sickly sweet perfume, she kissed him.

Afterwards he had asked if she fancied going for a walk after dinner to which she eagerly agreed. Trust me, he had thought gloomily as he trudged up the castle, to end up with a girlfriend I don't even want.

But their relationship had been short-lived. Unimpressed by his monosyllabic attempts at conversation by the lake that evening, Hannah politely refused his offer to meet again the next day.

So no, this is not his first kiss. But somehow it feels new. Teeth are not bumping or scraping together, he finds that he can breathe even though they are not breaking apart. He feels a sudden stiffening in his jeans when she makes a tiny sound somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. He pulls away, alarmed by his body's betrayal. But she doesn't seem to notice, leaning her forehead on his and smiling dreamily.

"I've been wanting to do that for two years," she says.

"Me too," he breathes and thinks – sod it, as he leans in to kiss her again.

* * *

><p>The terrible thing of course was that he liked George. He liked all the Weasleys' and envied them their boisterous affection. <em>Everyone<em> liked Fred and George and Neville couldn't seem to dislike him for noticing Jemima. That didn't stop him hoping that nothing would come of their Yule Ball date, that George wouldn't be interested in anything after that.

He was totally wrong of course and George was about as devoted as he could be while still keeping his place as chief Hogwarts troublemaker. Fred was about the only one that actually ribbed him about having a girlfriend, most of the girls seemed envious. To have nabbed a Weasley twin was a badge of honour. While it was still a novelty Neville saw less of Jemima, but as their relationship wore away into habit he got his best friend back, albeit with the regular acquisition of Fred and George.

When Fred and George made their dramatic exit from Hogwarts, George had swooped down through the crowd of admiring students and snatched Jemima up onto his broomstick. An excellent flyer, he managed to steer the broomstick through the fireworks, snog his girlfriend goodbye and then deposit her safely back down on the floor beside Neville.

"Look after her for me, won't you, mate?" he said with a wink before zooming off.

Neville couldn't help but have a grudging respect for him. He could never compete.


	3. Chapter 3

**_All The Time In The World  
><em>Chapter Three**

Neville manages to find Seamus Finnegan after their first visit to the Hog's Head. He brings Seamus to the Room and the three of them plot. It seems that as long as someone is in the Room, the Carrows' can't get in. There's a way out for those who want it, particularly the younger ones, the first and second years. Seamus is still – just – flying under the Carrows' radar and offers to spread the word.

So they gather people up and the Room expands as they need it. No one mentions the fact that Neville and Jemima are now holding hands, touching each other just for the sake of it and can be heard kissing at night. Now that there are others, their large hammock has split itself into two, swinging side-by-side. Looks are exchanged – some of surprise, some of the "I told you so" variety. But it is Lavender Brown who asks the killer question, when she thinks that Neville cannot overhear.

"But what about George Weasley?"

"What about George?" Jemima shrugs and continues mending a hole in her scarf.

"I thought you two were going to get back together."

"Why did you think that?"

"I don't know. Because you were really good together, I guess. And because you're the only girl that George ever really bothered with."

"Cheers."

"You know what I mean. Why'd you break up then?"

Neville's ears prick up at this. He carries on stacking the benches, clearing an area so he can practice his disarming, but he is listening. He's not sure he could stop himself hearing this if he tried. Hermione told him that Jem cried when she and George broke up, but all he got out of Jem herself was a stoic "It wasn't working out." To this day he doesn't know who broke up with who.

"He'd left school; him and Fred were setting up Wheezes."

"So? Didn't you work there when it first opened?"

"I needed some spare cash and there was no other way I was going to see him when he was so busy."

"Is that why then? Because he was so busy with work and you were coming back to school?"

"No. Yes. But not in the way you think."

"Go on then," Lavender grabs a pillow, hugs it to her middle and waits for the full story.

"George hasn't got a serious bone in his body."

Lavender laughs, "That's not news! I thought that's what you liked about him."

"It was. But we spent a lot of time together that summer and I thought with him and Fred starting the business I could tell him what I want to do with my future." She drops the scarf into her lap and takes a moment to collect her thoughts. "I want to figure out a cure for lycanthropy. That's why I'm – well, was – taking N.E.W.T.s in Transfiguration and Potions. But everything with George is a laughing matter, even that."

Neville bristles on her behalf. Curing lycanthropy – curing her father – is her most cherished ambition. She has nursed it from a young age, while Neville blathered about with no idea what he wanted to do when he left school. He understands, better than Lavender, who is looking amused, that to take Jemima less than seriously on that score is a very big mistake indeed.

"So you dumped him because he's an idiot?"

"It was more a mutual thing really…" she grins suddenly. "But yeah, the short answer is that I dumped him because he's an idiot."

"And Neville isn't?" Lavender wrinkles her nose. She has never had much to do with Neville Longbottom and the idea of him as anyone's romantic hero baffles her.

He doesn't look away in time and Jem looks up, catching him watching and they share a secret smile that makes his stomach flip-flop.

"No. No, he isn't."

* * *

><p>They are not children. In the eyes of the Ministry of Magic they are adults. But it still feels incredible that he can be lying next to Jemima Lupin, bundled next to each other on a narrow mattress, cupping her breast in his hand.<p>

They are fully clothed, but her school jumper has worn so thin that it barely counts. They are also alone for the first time in almost two weeks. That afternoon they squirreled away down the tunnel the ten students who were waiting for the nod from Aberforth to make their escape. Their other comrades have long since sidled back to their dorms. It is after curfew and they will be alone until at least just before breakfast. That evening a mattress appeared on the floor and, as the novelty of hammocks has long since worn off, they decided to bunk down on that for a change.

He has touched her before, chancing it a few days after their first kiss, before others began staying at night. She had sighed and arched her back slightly, pressing her breast further into his palm before placing a bold hand on his crotch. He has never dared slide his hand under her top, no matter how much he has longed to. They are always surrounded by people. They are in school, even if they're not in classes anymore. It feels wrong somehow.

But tonight there is an urgency in the way she kisses him and after a while, she takes his hand and guides it up under her top. He gasps at the surprising heat of her skin, the illicit feel of her lace-edged bra through which he can feel her hardened nipple. She paws clumsily at his jeans, managing to loosen them, but not enough to slide her hand in. He feels like there are fireworks going off behind his eyeballs because this cannot possibly be happening.

"Oh for the love of Merlin!"

She sits up and his hand is jerked out from under her jumper. He hears her mutter "Lumos" and from the floor beside their mattress her wand lights up. He reaches over to light his own wand and when he rolls back he sees her tugging her jumper up over her head.

"What are you doing?" he whispers.

She pauses, her arms still in the jumper. She clutches it close and looks suddenly vulnerable – her hair has billowed up, her lips dark from kissing. Her left nipple is peeking over the top of her bra which has been shifted slightly sideways by their fumblings.

"Don't you want to?"

She blushes and again he marvels at it because it is so unlike her. The flush travels down her throat and as he follows it he can't help but stare that that rosy nipple. He does want to. He wants to more than anything in the world. But he is so used to being useless at everything that he can't help but feel worried that he'll be useless at this too.

"Have you done this before?"

He could kick himself for asking. But there is something so assured in the way she has pulled off her jumper and is sat there, with only a scrap of cotton and lace between his hands – his lips, oh _God_ – and her breasts.

Jemima doesn't immediately answer. Her lips twitch as though she is dismissing one response for another.

"Yes," she replies finally. "Once. When I was working at Wheezes the summer before last."

"Oh."

"Does that bother you?"

Of course it bothers him. Over the past few days he has come to feel that she is _his_ so strongly that he almost ashamed of it. The idea of George touching her, being the first, is unbearable. She is watching him, biting her lip. As though reading his mind she backs away and perches on the end of the mattress. She has managed to tangle her jumper about her arms so that though she wants to dive back into it she can't.

In the wandlight, he can see the ridges of her spine as she bends over her task. The label in her bra strap has untucked itself; the writing has faded to an uncertain grey smudge. As he sits up, he sees that the bra straps are slightly perished. He feels a rush of tenderness for this withered article of clothing and with it comes a sort of assurance which allows him to reach out with both hands and unhook it.

She jumps as though surprised when her bra springs loose and looks over her shoulder at him. He is tugging his own shirt off and then slides up behind her. He kisses her gently, reaching round to push her jumper off her arms and then slide her bra down her arms.

"Are you sure?" she asks, drawing back from him. Her eyes are on his chest and she sadly counts up the marks their rebellion has left on his skin. Her hands brush lightly at his stomach.

If Neville had ever thought about his first time, he thought it would be a cringing and embarrassing affair, not knowing what to do, panicking that he wasn't any good. But this – who would have thought? – is something that seems to come naturally. And if he doesn't get it quite right this time, there are other times. He has all the time in the world to get this right. This, he realises with perfect and sudden clarity, is what they are fighting for.

"I love you," he says, pulling her close.

It is surprise to both of them. But it is also something they always knew.

* * *

><p>She is proud of him when Harry Potter comes back. She sees the way Harry, Ron and Hermione look at him. She knows they are noticing the sudden slimness – brought on by too much exercise, not enough food and the natural withering of what was only ever puppy fat – the battle scars. It is Hermione who notices that they are holding hands.<p>

"Oh!"

Neville grins as the boys gape and puts an arm round Jem's shoulders.

"She's my girlfriend!" he declares with a sort of goofy pride that makes her want to laugh.

She lets Neville tell the story of their rebellion. How the two of them, along with Luna and Ginny, got Dumbledore's Army going again. But it is his story to tell, it was his righteous anger that got it started, kept it going, burnt away any fear. They are impressed and she wants to say "I told you so" because she always knew, deep down, that Neville was going to turn out well.

When Fred and George tumble into the Room, she spots the smug look on George's face and he loses no time in grabbing her elbow to pull her close enough to whisper, "I told you so." But he smiles at her and she sees no hint of malice or jealousy on his face. It feels like years since she has seen him and she hugs him, reaching with her other arm for Fred. Neville falters when he sees her arm about George, but she soon lets go of him and comes back, sliding her hand into Neville's without so much as a backward glance at George.

Jem is even prouder when he stands up to Harry. She has always known that Neville has secretly idolised him and to watch him tell Harry exactly what they've gone through because they have been loyal to him thrills her.

She is the one that alerts her father to the fight that's about to happen and when he tumbles into the Room of Requirement, she cannot hide her delight. They parted the previous year under a cloud – he didn't want her to go back, he wanted her to stay with him and Tonks. But she wanted to go to Neville and she was furious that he had tried to go with Harry when Tonks was pregnant. She had felt on some level betrayed. Hadn't she turned out well enough to dispel any worries he might have about the baby?

But that is all gone now as Remus scoops her up, her long legs jangling and holds her tight. He shows her a picture of her little brother, an adorably tubby little thing with pink hair. Her father glows and she has a sudden certainty that everything is going to be all right. She is young and in love and Neville loves her back. Her father, who has elevated morose to an art form, is happy.

They are invincible.


	4. Chapter 4

**_All The Time In The World  
><em>Chapter Four**

Neville knew before she did what had happened. He doesn't know whether to stop her or not, he can hardly keep the truth from her forever. She already has tears in her eyes.

"Fred," she says, as she runs up to him. "Someone said that Fred was killed?"

She pushes past him into the Great Hall and sees the Weasleys' gathered about Fred's body. George is hanging onto his twin, his body convulsing in great shuddering sobs, but with no trace of a tear.

"Impossible," she whispers as Neville slips his hand in hers.

And then she sees their bodies. Her father and Tonks, lying side by side. Her face is suddenly hot and sticky with tears, her mouth sagging. She turns to him as if he can deny what she is seeing and he shakes his head.

"Dad," she gasps and wrenches her hand free, darting across the hall to her father's body. "Daddy!"

She clutches at Remus's shirt so violently his body lurches into the air. When Neville gets to her there is a dark wet stain on the front of Remus's shirt. Neville stares down at her. She has her head on her arms, leaning on her father's chest.

Neville sits behind her and places a hand between her shoulder blades. They sit like that for a long while. She sits up suddenly, scrubbing at her face.

"Who did it? Do you know who did it?"

"Dolohov," he replies flatly.

"And Tonks?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," there is a wealth of bitterness in his voice as he says the name. He has loathed Bellatrix Lestrange all his life, this is just one more reason to continue doing so.

Jem she nods and starts to get up. Her legs have gone to sleep and she struggles onto her knees. Calmer now, the sort of calm that actually scares Neville a little bit, she straightens her father's shirt and jacket and smoothes his hair back from his forehead. She drops a kiss just between his eyebrows and Neville hears her whisper, almost fiercely, "_I love you_."

She turns next to Tonks, stroking her face before kissing her too. Her legs have come back to life and she gets up.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"To help," she replies firmly, striding to the door.

They meet McGonagall in the entrance hall and she gives Jemima a stricken look.

"Jemima, I -"

Jemima turns her head sharply away, breathing in hard to shore up her tears.

"How can we help?"

Professor McGonagall is no sentimentalist, least of all in the midst of a crisis. She nods, understanding and reels off some directions about shifting some of the debris from the door. But outside there are bodies and they both think their dead are more important than debris.

* * *

><p>Jem has her hand pressed to the chest of a young Hufflepuff girl, she shakes her head at Neville and as they move to gather up the body, Harry appears. Neville jumps.<p>

"Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me a heart failure!" They both notice the Invisibility Cloak clutched in Harry's hand and exchange a suspicious look. "Where are you going, alone?"

"It's all part of the plan. There's something I've got to do. Listen - Neville -"

Jemima sits back on her heels, hand still on the young Hufflepuff's chest as Neville and Harry talk. She looks down at the face, so familar from countless meals and passings in the corridor - but what is her name?

"Kill the snake."

Trisha Green. That was in. Trisha Green in the year below. She once dyed her hair black and yellow for the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff game. McGonagall had been horrified.

"We're all going to keep fighting, Harry," Neville has seized Harry's wrist now and is looking his friend fiercely in the eye.

Harry nods vaguely and as he turns to leave Jem struggles to her feet.

"Harry!"

He turns and glances away from her face almost immediately.

"Jem. I'm - I'm so sorry about your dad and Tonks. I'm sorry for you and for Teddy."

She shakes her head, but it's more of a shudder. She has wrapped her arms about her body and closes her eyes for a moment.

"They believed in a world without Voldemort," Jem says finally. "That's why they believed in you."

To Harry's surprise she hugs him, very tightly so that he can almost feel all the bones in her thin arms.

"Take care, Harry. Won't you?"

"Yeah, course I will."

He steps backwards a little way, watches Neville and Jem take each other's hands as they look down at the body of Trisha Green. After a moment, Neville kneels down and closes the girl's eyes.

* * *

><p>It is bad, they all know that. But somehow no one seems to have imagined that Harry might actually die, but there he is in the arms of Hagrid. As still and lifeless as a rag doll. It is this sight, rather than that of her family lying dead in the Great Hall, that makes Jem think they have lost. They have fought and died for nothing at all. For a moment, she thinks that she might surrender.<p>

But when Neville makes his strident refusal to join Voldemort, something like hope kindles in her and she remembers suddenly what Neville said to Aberforth.

"_So you'll just bow down to them, is that it?"_

It lights a fury inside her – she will _not_ bow down to the people who murdered her father and her stepmother. People who killed her mother and all her mother's family years before. People who have made her – and Teddy, oh Merlin, _Teddy_ – orphans.

But no sooner has she decided that she will fight to her death rather than live in the world that Voldemort rules, than Bellatrix recognises Neville with a shriek of laughter. With the wands of several Death Eaters poised over the crowd Jem can do nothing but watch as the Sorting Hat is placed on Neville's head and set alight. She cannot even scream, though the sound brims in her throat like vomit.

Somehow this is worse than finding her father and Tonks dead in the Great Hall and inside her head she is howling.

But suddenly the hat is off and in a gleaming, heroic arc; Neville is twirling the sword of Gryffindor and slicing off the head of Nagini.


	5. Chapter 5

**_All The Time In The World  
><em>Chapter Five**

Author's Note: If you're interested, I've written a one-shot called _Moonlight_. It's Remus/Griselda (Jemima's mother) when they were at Hogwarts. There's also _Falling_, which focuses on how Jem started going out with George, only to end up with Neville.

* * *

><p>Jemima cannot deny him his glory; he has earned it and has spent far too long in the shadows. So when it is all over and Neville finds himself in a clutch of admirers she slips away.<p>

She wants to celebrate because it is all over now, they are free. But the price for her has been high and she cannot find joy in victory just yet. Behind her the castle is slumped, shattered. It is not the idyllic home of her childhood anymore. She wanders to the lake, where she has spent many hours brooding. Many other hours snogging George Weasley, who is stood there now, hands in pockets, eyes boring into the glass-like water.

"George."

He turns his head and she remembers suddenly that he lost his ear. He had joked about it at the wedding: _"Bet you still fancy me though, eh?"_

He doesn't say anything now. He has no ready quip to hand. He dully registers her presence, then turns his gaze back to the water.

"I'm – I was going to say I was sorry, but that's too small a thing to say. But for what it's worth I _am_ sorry. About Fred."

He nods and she begins to back away.

"You said that I laughed about everything," he says when she is almost out of earshot. She stops and looks back. "I'm not laughing now, am I?"

Her old accusation is tossed back at her with no hint of malice, but she winces anyway.

"No. You're not."

"I'm sorry too. About your dad. And Tonks. I liked them."

There is an expanse of space between them. They will always be friends but too much has happened to cross that space now.

* * *

><p>It doesn't take Neville long to realise she isn't there and much as he's enjoying all this novel attention, he wants her. He just wants to hold her because now they can do anything – they can live their lives without looking over their shoulders. And he wants to hold her because he knows her heart is breaking.<p>

He does not have to look far to find her, she is on the steps outside. Jem hears him coming and rises up into his arms, tucking her head under his chin.

"You nearly died."

"But I didn't."

She clutches him and burrows against him as though terrified.

"I'm not going anywhere, you know," he says after a moment.

"I am."

"Eh?"

"I have to go to Andromeda's. I have to tell her about Dad and Tonks. She should hear it from me."

"I'll come too."

"You don't have to."

"Yes I do. I love you, remember?"

* * *

><p>Jemima has spent the last few years telling her Dad she is not a kid anymore, that he needs to trust her, that she can look after herself. And in the eyes of the Ministry, at 18, she is well and truly an adult. But when she Apparates to the bottom of Andromeda Tonks' garden path, she wants her Dad so badly it feels like stomach-ache.<p>

Andromeda hears them walking up the path and opens the door. She knows. She knows because her daughter and her son-in-law aren't with Jemima. She knows because of the serious look on the young man's face. When it comes down to it, Jemima doesn't have to say a word.

Andromeda slumps against the doorframe, then sinks down, hands flopping to her side as Jem kneels beside her. Neville stands awkwardly to one side and then eventually bends over them.

"Come on, let's go inside. I'll make some tea."

Andromeda tearfully places Teddy in Jem's arms. He is colicky and crying, but when she tightens her arms around him he turns his head and stops crying. His hair is a pink tuft, like candy floss, and his eyes are a warm chocolate brown. But as he stares at his big sister, his eyes change, melting into same golden brown as hers.

"Instinct," Neville says, placing one hand on the small of her back.

* * *

><p>Andromeda goes to Hogwarts to see her daughter, leaving Neville and Jem to look after Teddy, who has fallen asleep in his Moses basket. They are curled up on the sofa, several empty mugs cluttering the table next to them. It is so normal it's practically obscene. She cannot bear how easily she could allow herself to believe that her father or Tonks will walk in any minute. There ought to be more of a mark left on the world. Some mark of their absence. But all Jem has is a chest crammed with grief.<p>

"Jem?"

"Mmm?"

"I'd like you to meet my parents."

She turns at that. It is a huge request. Since telling her about them in their third year, they haven't spoken of it. She asked after each holiday if they are well and he volunteered no more than "They're fine." He has invited her to stay at his house over the holidays; she has met his Gran, his uncle. She never imagined that he would ask her to meet his parents.

"Why?"

He shrugs and doesn't answer.

"All right," she says finally. "Yes. I'd like to. When shall we go?"

* * *

><p>Jem takes a box of Chocolate Frogs and a small bunch of flowers. She has been to St. Mungo's only once since she started at Hogwarts. She has dismal memories of the children's ward where she spent the full moons of her childhood, but Neville's parents are in another wing entirely.<p>

His Gran offered to go with her and seemed stunned when Neville quite firmly told her no, he'd go alone this time – just him and Jem. His Gran, who had always seemed to quite like Jem, narrowed her eyes at her suddenly. Jem worried she was sizing her up and finding her wanting.

Alice Longbottom is still pretty, which is something that Jem hadn't expected. Alice spots Neville the moment he comes into the ward and begins to pad towards him, her slippers slapping the floor.

"Hello, Mum," he says, taking her hand and gently guiding her back to her bed. "I've brought someone to meet you."

Alice stares at her son, then her eyes follow his hand when he gestures at Jem. She looks again at Neville, back at Jem and beams, folding Jem into her arms. She is tiny, bird-like and her hold is gentle.

"Sorry," Neville says and reaches to pull his mother away.

"It's all right," Jem says and returns the hug. She wonders suddenly – she hasn't thought this for years – what it would be like to hug her own mother. "Mrs Longbottom, I brought you these."

She offers Alice the flowers and she takes them, wandering back to her bed where she sits sniffing them. Frank is on the bed next to hers, staring blankly at a Daily Prophet spread over his knees.

"Dad? Dad, this is Jemima Lupin."

The surname seems to ring a bell because Frank tilts his head to one side and looks at Jemima before smiling. She offers the box of Chocolate Frogs and they spend half an hour eating them and comparing the cards.

When they go to leave, Jem promises to visit again. Alice follows them to the door of the ward and presses a card into Neville's hand. She grins happily at the two of them, cupping their faces in her hands. Once they are outside they look at the card. The kind blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore twinkle up at them.

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><p><strong><em>The End.<em>**


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